Page 18 of God of War

My eyes land on the man that takes the seat at the head of the table. He’s bald and barrel-chested, with a thick gray beard and a gold tooth that glints when he smiles.

And he’s smiling right at me.

“Well, little lady, seems we have ourselves a problem.”

I open my mouth to speak, but there’s a low cough from the corner. I turn my head. It’s Ares. Something in his blank stare tells me to keep my mouth shut. My eyes flutter into a split-second glare, and then I look back to the man at the head of the table. I know all about him already, thanks to Dad and his anti-Wastelander rhetoric that makes up most of his drunken rants.

Griff is the President of the Wastelanders. A little part of me is pleased that my stunt got them scrambling to pull out the big guns, but the other part of me? The sane, rational, doesn’t-want-to-die part? Yeah, that part is shitting itself.

Rev, the biker with tattoos curled around his neck, places the bricks of coke on the table, along with my backpack. With a little panic, I realize at some point it was snatched away from me and I didn’t even notice.

“Where’d you get this, sweetheart?” Griff asks.

“Made it in home-ec. Our final assignment was a brick of coke or a bunt cake.”

There’s a moment of shocked silence, then Griff’s grin widens. His laugh booms across the room and that sets off the other guys until most of them are howling with laughter.

I risk a peek over my shoulder. Ares isn’t laughing. He hasn’t even moved — still standing statue-still in the corner, his muscular arms folded over his chest.

“Alright, alright,” says Griff, waving everyone to quiet. He wipes a tear from the corner of his eye. “Girl’s got a sense of humor, I’ll give her that.”

He settles his dark gaze on me. “But that doesn’t explain what you’re doing walking into my place of rest and relaxation, flashing something that could very well get you thrown in jail.”

“Maybe she can flash something else while she’s at it,” chuckles one of the bikers.

“Wouldn’t hate that,” smirks Rev.

I ignore them, staring straight ahead at Griff.

“Question is,” he continues, “Where’d you get it from?”

His eyes are sharp. He knows exactly where I got it from, knows exactly who I am, but he wants me to admit it.

“I stole it from the evidence room at the Sheriff’s station,” I say.

“And why would a nice girl do something like that?”

“Maybe her daddy took away her cell phone. Wants a little revenge,” another biker pipes up. There’s a ripple of chuckles.

Of course they know who I am. That’s probably why I’ve made it as far as I have. Can’t disappear the Sheriff’s daughter without retaliation.

“Look,” I say with a huff. “The way I see it, I’ve just done you a favor. They’ll have to drop the trafficking charges against your two prospects if they don’t have any drugs being trafficked. Any half-decent lawyer will get it thrown out.”

“And I take it you want a little something in return?” replies Griff. “You want a job, honey? Could put you behind the bar. Or are you more the ‘shake your ass on stage’ kind of girl?”

A hand slithers across the back of my jeans. “Doesn’t look like much of an ass to me.”

I whip around, but the hand is gone and the biker just leers. Ares does nothing, just stares.

Always with the fucking staring. It makes me feel… I don’t know… sick, almost. Like my stomach churns and tightens and I feel like I might throw up out of anxiety alone.

“Consider this pre-payment,” I manage to grit out. “For a job well done.”

“And what job is that, Delaney Jackson?” Griff asks, leaning forward. He puts his elbows on the table, peaking his fingers and resting his chin on them. Hearing him say my name — my full name — sends shivers down my spine. It’s like they’ve got my number, got me all figured out, and I’m in way over my head.

But it’s too late to back out now. I need to do this. For Lilly.

“I want you to kill my father.”

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